


The Force

by VeraBAdler



Series: October 2018 challenges [28]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha Castiel (Supernatural), Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, M/M, Omega Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-28
Updated: 2018-10-28
Packaged: 2019-08-09 02:14:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16441073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VeraBAdler/pseuds/VeraBAdler
Summary: Dean and Cas find each other at a 24-hour Star Wars marathon.Fictober prompt: “I felt it. You know what I mean.”Promptober prompt: Star Wars





	The Force

Dean squirms in his costume. He'd practically broken his arm patting himself on the back when he'd first come up with the idea to dress as Biggs Darklighter, but now he's awash in regret. The fake mustache itches like a bastard, for one thing, and the cape that had looked so cool on the hanger keeps half-strangling him every time he throws the fabric back over his shoulder.

Charlie keeps reassuring him that he looks great, “and totally authentic, dude!” But it's easy for her to talk – her Rey outfit looks fantastic _and_ it's comfortable and breathable. The hardest she'd had to work to get ready tonight was pulling her hair up.

He tries to put his discomfort out of his mind and enjoy the moment. He's been counting down the days to this event since the spring, and it would be a shame if he let a few petty costume malfunctions ruin it. The line creeps its way along, and finally they're at the ticket booth.

Two, please, for me and my _platonic_ friend,” Charlie pipes, throwing the dark-haired girl behind the counter a saucy wink.

She blushes, and stammers, “T-two for which show?”

“The whole shebang. We're in it for the long haul.” She holds up her carry-all. “We brought supplies.”

The girls grins. “I'm impressed.” She gives Charlie a look from under her eyelashes, and Dean can tell she's digging the vibe his friend's laying down. “Two tickets to the 24-hour marathon, that'll be $180.”

Dean whistles low. “You sure you got this, Red?”

Charlie punches him on the shoulder. “Shut up, Winchester. This is your Christmas, birthday, and Leif Erickson Day presents all rolled into one. Relax and appreciate it.” She hands over her credit card and smiles. “So, uh, when does your shift end...” She glances at the girl's nametag. “...Dorothy?”

Dorothy slides the tickets and Charlie's receipt out through the slot in the booth. “I think I might be taking my break right around the time the first movie ends,” she purrs.

“Interesting.” Charlie nods. “I'm sure I'll need to stretch my legs around then. Maybe I'll see you by the snack bar.”

Dorothy giggles. “Maybe.”

As they walk into the theater, Dean slaps Charlie on the back. “Damn, Charles, that was smooth. I see love blooming in your future!”

“We'll see. She's cute, but I couldn't catch her scent through that booth. You know I won't hook up if we're not at least scent-compatible.”

“Yeah, yeah, you're old-fashioned. I get it.” Dean shrugs. “I don't see what the big deal is, though. I mean, I know we've talked about this before. You're holding out for a true mate or whatever. But man, there's billions of people in the world and they pretty much all smell okay to me. Why complicate things?”

She laughs at him. “Winchester, you talk a big game, but I don't see you going home with anywhere near as many people as you like to claim you do. Deep down inside, you're waiting for your alpha to ride in on a white horse and sweep you off your feet like you're a cartoon princess.”

Dean flushes and looks away. Charlie's little speech hits way too close to the truth, and he doesn't want to admit it, not even to himself. Sex is always fun, but he's sick of the way his “relationships” never last more than a couple hours. He's tired of his bachelor's apartment and his empty bed. He's _beyond_ ready for something real.

 _No point in dwelling on this shit_ , he thinks, giving himself a mental shake. _We're here to have a good time_. He looks around at his fellow moviegoers, checking out the ones brave or devoted enough to have come in costume. He gives a high five to a Chewbacca who roars in friendly greeting. He shoots finger guns at a cute couple of guys dressed as Finn and Poe. He throws a wink at a slave-girl Leia but she's only got eyes for Charlie. He's tossing compliments left and right as people walk by in flawless cosplay, but his outfit is getting him nothing but puzzled looks and the occasional generic “nice, uh, uniform.” _Hmm, might have gone a bit too highbrow for this crowd_ , he muses.

As they head towards concessions, he spots a man dressed as Han Solo standing by the butter dispensers. His costume is fantastic, but even more impressive is the body underneath it. Dean has never bothered to hide his obsessive crush on Han, but this guy is hotter than Harrison Ford by about twenty pounds of toned, tanned muscle. He must be a runner, because his thick thighs make Dean's mouth water. There's no question, he _has_ to go talk to this man.

He takes a few steps forward, getting just close enough to begin, “Hey, man, great Han cos–” when he gets a lungful of the most delicious scent he's ever encountered. The man smells like pipe tobacco and vanilla and warm apple pie, and Dean wants to drown in it, wants to rub up against him until he can't smell anything else. He wants to run his hands under that costume and touch every inch of that golden skin. He's never felt so hungry for someone before, and his sudden desperation freaks him out a little bit.

The man, who had turned a friendly face in his direction as soon as Dean had spoken, looks like he's seen a ghost. His irises ( _Jesus, so blue_) are ringed in alpha red, and he takes a shocked gasp of air as Dean comes to a stop an arm's length away from him.

“Hello, I...” the man begins, and his voice is whiskey-rough. _God, can he get any hotter??_ Dean marvels. “I like your Biggs costume.” _Fuck, that's it, I'm in love_.

Dean intends to reply like a normal human, make some small talk, pretend that what's happening between them isn't completely earthshaking. But what comes out of his mouth is, “I felt it. You know what I mean.”

The man nods dazedly. “Yes. I feel it too.”

“Can we go somewhere and talk? My name's Dean, by the way.”

“I'm Cas. And yes, Dean, I'd like that. Or... Do you want to go watch the movies together? We can get to know each other during the intermissions.” He reaches out his hand, and Dean takes it without hesitation. Touching Cas's skin soothes the hunger, and calms his nerves. He knows right away that he's home.

“That sounds great, Cas. Let's go.”

**Author's Note:**

> Dean is dressed as Biggs Darklighter from [this deleted scene](https://youtu.be/f00IkrWvur4?t=27) because he is a _giant fucking nerd_. (I don't mean to shock or alarm you, but he is.) Cas is wearing the [iconic Han Solo costume](http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/File:HanSolo-Fathead.png), complete with boots and vest and tight pants and thigh holster and shirt that's open halfway down to _there_ and who can blame Dean for being impressed?
> 
> Rebloggable post for this fic on tumblr is [here](https://blessyourhondahurley.tumblr.com/post/179525980846/october-28-the-force-verabadler-supernatural).


End file.
